‘take off your clothes,’ he said.
i glared — long enough to matter.
he peeled off his cardigan,
set it on the desk.
‘wear mine.’

another glare.
maybe half a smile.
‘i know how much you love it.’

then he walked away,
knowing my heart melted —
not from the warmth
of his sleeves
wrapped around me,
but from the fact
that he noticed i did.

later, when the rainy days passed,
i looked for my scarf.
i was sure i left it in the office.
‘you did,’ he said.

‘so where is it?’
‘i took it home.’
his grin lit the air between us.

‘what can i say?’
hands over his heart.
‘i needed something
to warm me up.’

It wrapped her head,
covering her auburn hair
in golden yellows and bright blues.

When the wind stole it away,
I raced after it,
hoping to catch up to the breeze.

The red and orange leaves
traced its path as it flew
through the brisk autumn air.

My fingers barely brushed
the fabric, but the current
brought it to the branches overhead.

The air carried it to
a high bough above our heads,
hanging it on a branch with care.

There it hung, beside
the glimmering yellow leaves of
the tree, swaying like one of them.

I reached towards the sky
to retrieve it before the breeze
could lift it away once more.

She caught up with me then,
laughing at our attempts
to rescue her bright yellow scarf.

Looking up at the thin piece of fabric,
I offered to climb the tree
though I didn’t want to.

Her infectious giggles at the
proposed idea graced my ears
like a soft, sweet song.

That music lulled my once-lonely mind
into sleepy peace and serenity
for the rest of my days.

I have frozen lake independence—
self-sufficiency stuck in a state of stasis,
waiting for spring or a better excuse.

I’m the last bud in the bag,
that lonely bit of green at the bottom—
each time you reach for me,
you know you’re running out.

I’m a scarf left outside,
stiff as a corpse, wrapped tight
around a post under the overpass.
Some do-gooder tied a note to me—
“Take me if you need me.”

but nobody needs me.
everybody’s got their own warmth,
their own coat, their own somebody.

so I stay there,
*******, forgotten,
waiting for some cold *******
to come along and wrap me
around their neck.

I want to be your scarf,
So soft and mohair,
To warm you in snowfalls
And even in rainy autumn.

I will embrace your neck
Like a mother cradles her child.
I’ll save the warmth for you.
Put on the scarf, be so kind.

I want to be your scarf.
Oh, don’t wear scarfs? Well now,
If I can’t softly warm you,
I’ll be your skin somehow.

Scarf...
Without you, my neck would go cold

Love...
Without you, my heart would go cold

Passion...
Without you, my fire would go cold
and then...

Go out.

A winter breeze
brushed against the tassels
of her velvet scarf.

She breathed in
the misty, wet smells
that melt her heart.

Her mittens tickled
the warm, scarlet wool
padded in her pockets.

Winds back and forth
against the snowy trees
rocking large  snow deposits.

She smiled at the
mushy, muddy tracks
her boots evenly made.

She bunched up
a big ball of powdery snow
and in that she played.

Scarf thieves beware.
Cold necks belong to snakes and lizards.
Snakes make snug scarves.
I always wanted a really long scarf
I had one
and it's gone now.

My eyes never close
and I never stop tasting
or shedding my skin
I have many many scales,
none of them in equal temperament,
all of them intricately camouflaged
speckled and striped
coiled and waiting to strike at anything that comes within reach.

Lucky you've got a scarf to protect your neck.